Before Litchfield
by heynewglasses
Summary: Centered around the events that landed Piper and Alex in prison - a full detail Vauseman story of what happened before Piper arrived at Litchfield.
1. Laura Ingalls Wilder

**Chapter One**

"So anyways, Alex, how was your trip? Any, _trouble _at the airport?"

I look over at my table of friends, all waiting expectantly for my next words. As if _I'd_ actually get caught.

"Well, if you thought they'd get me for my last drop, think again. It wasn't too bad. They took my moisturizer, guys. I had to walk through the airport _barefoot_. I mean, if Bush fucking wins again, we're all moving to Berlin."

Seeing as my friends are all liberals, I get a round of applause and "Amens", with all of us holding up our beer bottles and pushing them together in one simultaneous group _klink_. But I don't really hear it. All I see at the moment is this girl who just walked into the dingy, horribly lit bar.

Long, wavy, dirty blonde hair that tickles just below her boobs. Nice. I'm guessing an A or B cup? From behind, it's quite the view. Legs for days, and those jeans aren't doing her any favors.

"Hey, you," I call out to her from my spot at the table. She doesn't move from where she stands at the bar. I cup a hand over my mouth.

"Laura Ingalls Wilder."

She turns behind her, as if expecting someone else would actually come into the bar, then catches my eye and turns to face me. I get a clear look at her face. It's thin, framed by the waves of dirty blonde, with thin lips and these clear, watery blue eyes. Like someone drained them of color and only left the slightest shade of blue left. It's like she's beautiful without trying.

"We're skipping America before the apocalypse. Wanna come?"

I add in a flirtatious smile to top it off. Confusion floods her face.

"Sorry?"

Before I can respond, the bartender shows up behind her. It's a small bar, so I can hear every single word of their exchange.

"What can I get for you?" He asks, both hands resting on the mahogany bar.

"Oh, hi, I was wondering if you were hiring?"

The bartender glances at the resumé in her hands, then purses his lips.

"No, sorry."

"Well, can I leave this with you?"

"Honestly, it's just going to end up in a drawer somewhere, so…"

She looks down and I can tell she's disappointed.

"Okay. Well…"

Blondie starts to turn her head in my direction, so I immediately immerse myself in conversation with my friends. She turns back to the bartender.

"Can I have a margarita, then?"

"That I can do for you."

Time to shine. Before I stand up to go talk to her, my friend Christina leans over and whispers, "If you fuck her I'll give you ten bucks."

I snorted. "I'll take you on for that, but add on an extra five if Silvy doesn't find out."

I left her laughing at the table, and approach Blondie. Setting my beer on the bar, I stand right next to her barstool and say, "It's a little cold out for a margarita, don't you think?"

Without waiting for a reply, I give her the smallest of smirks then pick up Blondie's resumé.

"Let's see this," I say, while quickly scanning the obviously faked resumé. Hmmm. Pretty girl, hasn't worked a day in her life, nice clothes… possibly a new recruit? No. She seems too…whole. Too pure. If it were any other girl, like one with mommy issues, a long-time girlfriend called herion, and a mane of hair that no brush could ever tame, _then_ it might be a different story.

"Steve's Greek Cuisine? Le Grande Fromage? Bullshit, bullshit." I say, chuckling at her now reddening face. "_You_ need a lesson in fudging a resumé."

Blondie finally speaks up, and says, "Do you work here?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She seems taken aback, confirming the uptight, ice-princess act I suspected. I continue on with the resumé.

"Manager, Polly Harper." Pffft. Who the hell names their kid Polly? "No one named Polly Harper gets put in charge. Who is that really?"

Blondie's face flushes, and she says, "It's my friend." We both chuckle.

"You've never waited a fucking table in your life, have you?"

She pauses, her smile showing off her dimples, shakes her head, and finally says, "No."

I glance back down at the resumé. "So… Piper Chapman?" Damn. Even her name is cute. I continue, "A Smith grad with _excellent_ listening skills, passionate about making diners feel good…mmm, that sounds kind of dirty." The bartender sets Blondie's- er, Piper's margarita on the bar, and I tell him, "You can put that on my tab."

"Safe, clean, and careful when handling food and drink," I say with a smirk and a laugh as a now fully embarrassed Piper snatches her resumé out of my hands as she exclaims a soft, "Oh, gosh!" then rubs a hand on her forehead. I get her attention back by saying, "I like that in a woman." She smiles again, dimples apparent.

"So, what else do I need to know about you?"

She avoids my question by asking, "Who _are _you?"

I smile. "My name is Alex."

"And what do _you_ do, Alex? Besides make fun of strangers in bars?"

Trying to say it as lightly as possible, I admit, "I work for an international drug cartel."

Shit. The eyebrows are raised. I play it off with a laugh, like it was a joke, with Piper following suit. Oh, if only she knew it was most definitely _not_ a joke and I have a call to make to a new manufacturer in Amsterdam in approximately four hours. Behind me I hear the scraping of chairs as they're being pushed out from the table, and the sound of different conversations drifts away as my friends leave the bar.

"Hey Vause, you coming?" Asked Christina from the doorway, a smirk plastered on her face. My time is up.

"Yeah, yeah, on my way." I mumble. Turning back to Piper, I see that she's still smiling at me, maybe hoping that I'll stay. "Hey, I have to go," I say, watching her smile fade away. "But," I grab the napkin from under her margarita and scribble ten digits on it.

"Here's my number. Give me a call if you want to find out what I _actually_ do for a living. Bye for now, Piper."

And before she has the chance to respond I'm already out the door.

"Looks like I don't owe you anything." says Christina as we walk away from the bar. I take in a deep breath, and smile at the thought of the gorgeous blonde with pale blue eyes.

"Just wait. Patience is a virtue."


	2. The Coffee Date?

"I don't care Levi, I need the shipment by Thursday! If I don't get it by then, Kubra'll have your head, and mine too if you aren't careful." I snap my phone shut, lean back against the nearly-overflowing bookcase/wall in my girlfriend Silvy's house, and take a deep breath. It would have been so much more satisfying to slam it down on the holder.

I'm about to doze off when my phone rings _again._ Probably Levi. Without bothering to look at the caller ID, I answer the call and nearly scream into the phone, "Look, Levi. _I_ _don't_ _care _if you think you'll get caught, I _need that fucking shipment waiting for me at the warehouse by Thursday. Begrijpen?_"

"Uh…Sorry?" says a soft voice that I instantly recognize from a certain bar two weeks ago. Blondie.

"Oh, hey Piper! I was starting to think that you'd forgotten about me."

"What? Never."

"Okay, I know you didn't call so you could get me to buy you another margarita. Besides, its way too cold out for one now. What do you want?"

"Oh, I, um…" her voice trails off, but I know she hasn't hung up yet. I can still hear shallow breathing from the other line.

"I was, just um, wondering if you wanted to hang out?"

A smile begins creeping up on my face.

"Piper Chapman, you naughty little girl. Are you asking me out on a date?"

I can practically see her cheeks reddening, which only makes me smile even more.

"What? No…I'm straight. I just, you know, want to hang out. With you."

"Mhmmm. Whatever you say, Blondie."

"Seriously! I'm not gay!"

Although her words are saying that she's straight, her voice begs to differ. I won't give up this easily. Still smiling, I tell her, "I know about this nice little café in Spanish Harlem. Meet me there in ten?"

"Yeah, sure!"

I give Piper the address and name of the place, throw on a black leather jacket, and head out.

—

I'm sitting by the café window when I see them across the street at a playground. A young woman with sunglasses covering up her face sitting on a park bench with an older, paunchier woman with dark curls of hair. I can see them talking, but they abruptly stop when they see a young man who is trying to talk to Sunglasses.

He says something and holds his arms half open, like he was expecting a hug or something as the breeze blows on his button up shirt, blatantly showing the black wife-beater tank underneath. She rises up from the bench, saying something back to the guy and rips off her sunglasses. Thats when I see the black eye and cut lip that adorn her face like an ugly piece of art. Shit.

I stop watching what should be on a spanish soap opera because of a certain blonde that catches my eye immediately as she walks into the café.

"Piper! I thought you wouldn't show up." I stand up from my table and envelope her in a hug. She hugs me back, smiling.

We order our coffees, black coffee for me, a cappuccino for Piper. We both receive them in mugs and go to over to the table near the window where I was waiting for her. I glance over at the park, and see the couple hugging.

"Okay, Alex," Piper says, sitting down in a chair opposite me, "You _need_ to tell me what you do for a living."

"I… import things." I try to look inconspicuous and pour some cream into my coffee.

Piper, looking unsatisfied, continues with, "Like _what_ things?"

"Like, drug things. I already told you. I'm part of an international drug cartel."

She looks around, confused, then leans in.

"So you were telling the truth?"

I lean in and whisper, "When have I ever lied to you, darling?" I smile and take a sip of my coffee. Piper leans back in her chair, thunderstruck.

"So, like, what do you do? Do you deal it?"

I laugh and drink more coffee. Dealing is for amateurs.

"No, no. I just move shipments from place to place. Internationally."

She still looks deep in thought, and after a few seconds of silence, takes a long drink from her cappuccino. When she finally lowers the mug, theres a line of foam trailing along her upper lip, somehow making a foam mustache look sexy and ridiculous at the same time.

"You've got, uh, some foam on your lip." I say, reaching across the table and lightly brush across Piper's upper lip with a finger to wipe it off. In an attempt to steer the conversation to a lighter topic, I put the foam-covered finger in my mouth and suck on it as a joke. Piper watches me intently with those pale blue eyes, then cracks a half-smile. Leaning into my ear, she whispers, "Hey, lets get out of here."

"Like where?"

She leans in so close her dirty blonde hair tickles my neck, making me start to take shallower breathes.

"Your place?"

I smirk, regaining some of my confidence. "I thought you said this wasn't a date."

"Okay, okay, _fine. _This is a date. Can we go now?"

"Lets go."

Looping my arm through hers, I grab my purse and make sure my keys are in there. Bingo. As we head out the door and to my apartment, practically running through the streets of the Big Apple, a thought flits through my mind. Maybe, just maybe, Christina will owe me me some money.

—

Hey guys!

Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Did you find the easter egg in this chapter? And what will happen next with Piper and Alex? I'm trying to go in chronological order with information from the book as well as the show, so I think you guys can guess what's next :) Next chapter up soon!


	3. Piper's First Softball Game

**—**

**Alex**

"Ohhh. OHHHHH. _OHHHHH._"

Piper continues to moan as I reach up from underneath the sheets and grab a boob. How did we get here within three minutes of arriving at my apartment? I just remember pushing her up against the bookshelf and ripping off her clothes, her grabbing my glasses and putting them somewhere near the bed, taking off her super cute tan heels (I'm a girl, I notice that stuff), then falling onto the bed with my fists full of her golden locks.

Her back arches up as I'm just finishing. I hear her moan again. Two, three, four, five more times, each coming quicker and louder than the last. Damn. Cupping her 34B in one hand, I pull my head out from underneath the sheets and lean down to kiss her stomach. I'm wiping my mouth on my arm when I hear her whisper, "Oh my God."

I push a black tangle of hair out of my face, smirk, and say, "Horrible, wasn't it?"

Still breathing heavily, she smiles, "The worst."

I lean in and our lips meet. In my mind, fireworks begin every moment her soft lips come in contact with any part of me, so long as I'm the sole receiver of them.

We break apart for a second and she murmurs, "You're bad at that." Then leans up to kiss again. The fireworks die out a second time when she gazes at me and asks, "Can I do you?"

Grinning, I say, "You don't have to ask."

Fireworks once more.

"I've never…really…"

"Gone down on a woman before?" I ask, skeptical. She _seemed_ pretty experienced to me when we met, but hey, theres a first time for everything.

Still watching me, she admits, "I mean…no."

I chuckle.

"What kind of a lesbian are you?"

"The boob-touching kind." She says, and smiles while I laugh.

Pushing a lock of hair out of my face, I say, "Alright, well…are you ready to take the plunge, so to speak?"

She runs a hand through my hair and asks, "Are you gonna coach me through it?

Still grinning, I say, "Yeah."

We both smile and lean in, lips meeting again and again until my phone starts beeping, indicating a call. Shit, should've muted it. First time I've been cockblocked by my own phone. "Shit." I mutter into Piper's mouth. Silently cursing my phone in my head, I pull away and check the caller ID. Levi. Fuck.

Out loud, I let out an almost-panicky, "Shit" and pull on my glasses. Glancing over at Piper, I ask, "What time is it in Amsterdam?"

"I have no idea." She says, with a manicured hand reaching up and stroking my hair.

As much as I didn't want to say out loud what I had to do, I did it anyways.

"Okay, um, gimme a second-"

Piper reaches up and pulls me into a swarm of kisses

Pulling away, I apologize, saying, "I'm sorry. It's business."

She lets out a disappointed groan.

"I'll be right back." I promise, pulling on a thin robe and walking out towards the hallway.

"Do you want a glass of water?" I ask. I'm already on my way to the kitchen, might as well offer.

I hear Pipers voice carry out through the apartment.

"Is that a part of it? Hydration?"

By that point, I've already answered Levi's call.

"Levi, what is it? Did you get the order in?"

A heavy Dutch accent belonging to Levi responds to my question. "Yes, but-"

"But what?"

"Nevermind, Vause. I've got it in, Kubra's happy. No worries."

I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Bless you Levi, truly I-"

Somewhere from the bedroom, I hear a voice scream, "ALEX!"

Piper. I snap my phone shut, and sprint through the hallway, coming to a stop when I see Silvia on top of a sheet-covered Piper.

**—**

**Silvia**

I got off of work early today. I told my manager that I was feeling sick, and proceeded to make my way to Alex and I's modest apartment. Our relationship has seemed _strained_ lately, Alex has been dealing with an asshole in Amsterdam for the past few weeks, but it seems like theres something else. I found out it was _someone_ else when I came in to surprise Alex and found a naked blonde slut in my bed. There are clothes, _Alex's_ clothes, strewn on the floor.

The slut sees me, and says, "What the-?"

Then, "ALEX!"

And then, I punch her.

We roll off onto the ground, where I pin her there, trying to get another punch in. Alex runs into the room, flicking on the light, yelling, "Jesus! What the fuck? Stop, Silvy!"

Like _I'm_ the bad guy. Cheating fucker. Alex pulls me off the whore, and I stumble back, looking into the blonde girls panicked face.

Alex yells, "Stop it, _Silvy!_" as I continue to scream obscenities into her face.

She then mutters a softer, "Shit." and helps the whore up. She manages to hyperventilate, whimper, and gingerly touch her cheek all at the same time.

Breathing heavily, while gripping the sheets to _my _bed and backing away, Whore says, "She, she attacked me!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I pull off my hood and start to go after her again, but Alex holds out a hand, and commands, "Stop."

In a softer tone, addressing Whore, Alex asks, "Piper?"

Ah, so a whore name for a whore girl. If the shoe fits.

Whore, I mean, _Piper, _gasps between shallow breaths, "She just…_broke_ in here!"

This is too much. I decide to enlighten _Piper._

"**I ****_LIVE_**** HERE!**" I roar, while Alex attempts to wipe her face of emotion.

Alex breaks character, and says to _Piper,_ "She does."

"She's my _girlfriend_, you whore." I add.

Whore's face becomes clouded with confusion.

"No." she says. I ignore her, while Alex turns to face me.

"Get her the _fuck_ out of here." I hiss in her face

"Okay, I will. I'm gonna get her out of here, and then we're gonna talk."

"I said get her out. _Now!"_

I hear a faint "Silvy. Come on, Silvy." as I leave.

I storm out of the bedroom, out of the apartment, out of the neighborhood, then catch a train out of the Bronx. Hopefully, I've also just stormed out of Alex's life.

**—**

**Piper**

I can't _believe_ Alex has a girlfriend. _She_ pursued me. Fuck her. Technically, I was less than ten minutes ago, but still.

After Alex's girlfriend leaves, I turn to Alex.

"You're _girlfriend_?" I ask, almost too stunned to speak.

"It's complicated." Alex stammers.

"Oh my…this is so_ fucked up_." Whoops. I guess I meant to say that inside my head. Sometimes that happens, where I accidentally say my thoughts out loud.

"I'm sorry, I should have said something." Alex apologizes.

"You _think?_"

Alex rushes over. "Are you hurt? Did she hurt you?" She questions.

I push her away and begin picking up articles of clothing scattered around the floor. Shoe, check. Pants, check.

"She punched me in the face! _Yes_, it hurts! Fuck! Where's my other shoe?" I continue looking, grab my blouse, and tighten my hold around the sheets.

"I just, I kept seeing you around, and, you know, I _liked_ you. And then when you called-"

"Okay, stop it," I say, interrupting Alex. "Please don't. You're making it worse."

Looking down at the pile in my hands, I'm still missing my bra and my shoe.

"Here." says Alex, holding up the hot pink number I wore today to our coffee date. "Did you find your other shoe?"

"Forget it." I say, and begin to walk out the bedroom door.

"What! You can't walk home without your shoes."

I stop, and glare at Alex incredulously. Her face freezes up and she stammers out, "Th-They're nice shoes."

I throw the single heel on the floor. "They're from Marshall's," I spit, then grab a hold of the doorknob. "And fuck you." The door slams shut.

I shove my way, shoeless, out the front of Alex- I mean, _Silvy_'s building and begin stalking my way through the sidewalk. Glancing down at my phone, it reads out; _2 new messages_. They're both from Polly, my best friend, the only person who knows about Alex. Opening up my phone, I stop next to a trash can to read the texts.

The first one says, _Hey P. Hows the hot date? _

The second, _You've officially been gone for more than half an hour, and you haven't responded yet. Either someone stole your phone, or you've just signed up for the softball league._

I smile. Only Polly could ever cheer me up while I fume by myself on the sidewalks of the Bronx on a Tuesday half dressed and barefoot.

I start to type out, _Played some softball, turns out I'm not the only catcher Alex pitches t-_ When some kid runs into me. My phone clatters out of my hand and into the trash can. Great. A second later, a half-eaten hamburger is thrown in there as well. I look back and see a small blur sprinting away down the sidewalk, as a woman's voice from inside a nearby store shouts out, "Michael!"

As if my day wasn't bad enough. Now I've lost a girl, my shoes, and now, my phone. Massaging my cheekbone, I add _being punched by the girl's girlfriend_ to the list. Glancing over to the store, I realize it's a Footlocker. Might as well.

I check for my purse, note that at least I didn't lose it yet, and brush past a tall black woman rushing out the door, who I assume is Michael's mom due to the fact she keeps calling out his name nearly every second. I pick out a pair of plain white Keds, and make my way down to the subway station.

It's not until I arrive at Polly and I's modest townhouse in NYC that I realize one of the burdens that comes with getting a new phone includes having to recollect all my contact numbers. That information, along with the fact that the only copy of Alex's number that I have is in my phone, officially makes it the worst ending to one of the best days of my life.

**—**

**Hey everybody!**

**I'm so sorry I didn't come out with this sooner, I've been super busy lately! I plan on making an outline sometime this weekend, but I'm not sure when Chapter Four will come out, so I thank you in advance for your patience :) Please leave a review on your thoughts about the story so far, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it!**


	4. Chapman v Harper

Polly settles herself down on our cappuccino-colored couch, mug of hot cocoa in hand.

"Okay, you have to tell me _everything._ Not the reason why you're shoes are missing. Or how you mysteriously lost your phone. _Everything._"

Sighing, I launch into a full-detail explanation of the past few hours. With each detail added Polly's eyes slowly widen to the point where she resembles the Disney princess Rapunzel, just without the 20 feet of hair and substituting green eyes for hazel.

"So she has a _girlfriend?_"

Nodding my head, I confirm, "They call her 'Silvy' -"

Polly interrupts with a disgusted sound and I hear her mutter, "Silvy, ugh," as I continue on with my sentence. "- and the worst part is, I don't have a way to contact Alex again."

"You can't contact her? Good."

"Yes, remember the whole a-kid-ran-into-me-and-my-phone-fell-into-a-trash-can ordeal? Unfortunately for me, science hasn't invented telepathic communication yet, so my only chance would be to wait outside her apartment building, but then I'd be risking seeing her girlfriend too."

"What, you mean you'd want to see that cheating whore again? After you were her _mistress,_ then got attacked by her psycho girlfriend with a stupid nickname?"

I think about it, and finally come to a conclusion after a minute of my inner thoughts battling one another as Polly sips from her mug with an expectant look on her face.

"Pol, I think she really _does_ care for me. I mean, she went up to _me_ at the bar. _She _pursued _me._ I didn't even know she had a girlfriend until I was punched in the face. Alex _wanted_ to sleep with me. I'm not trying to say adultery is necessarily a good thing, but just for those moments that we spent together, she stopped thinking of her girlfriend. Alex was only thinking of me. And it felt good."

Polly stares at me, stunned. She finally manages to say, "I never thought you'd _actually _be a mistress. After all, your dad cheated on your mom, I just thought you'd, you know, be more sensitive to stuff like this."

"Well unlike my mother, I don't ignore my problems. Most of the time." I sigh. "Alex…is different."

Polly drains the rest of her hot cocoa, and snorts out, "Why? Because she's a _she_? Hate to break it to you Pipes, but just because she has a v instead of a p down there doesn't make cheating okay."

Balling my fists and standing up, I retort with, "No. Because she's different."

Polly scratches her neck. "Okay, I believe you."

I collect Polly's still-warm mug and start making my way to the kitchen when Polly calls out, "Hey Pipes?"

"What?"

"So, are you now, like, my gay best friend?"

"_What?_"

I can hear faint laughter that sounds suspiciously like Polly's.

"Well, you're my best friend. And you're gay. So now you can be my best friend _and_ my gay best friend!"

Blushing to the point where I can literally feel the tomato red on my face, I call out, "Still not gay, like I said before, I'm just trying something new."

"Whatever you say." Another tinkling of laughter sneaks its way into my ears and I smile.

I begin strolling back to the living room when I hear faint, yet familiar snores. Turning around the corner, my eyes confirm what my ears suspected. Polly passed out on the couch, sleeping. I shake my head. Hot cocoa always makes her drowsy. Whirling around the corner, I check the time via microwave clock. 11:38.

Pulling on my jacket, I head out the door, unsure of where exactly I'm going. I'm only fully aware of where I am when I'm in the Bronx for the second time that day, making my way to Alex's building. Stopping in the middle of the deserted sidewalk, my brain and my heart commence an internal battle, with the victor deciding whether or not I walk into the building and see Alex. They both put up a fair fight, but after referencing the archives of my short term memory, I remember my talk with Polly. In that conversation I was vouching for my heart, while Polly was sort of acting as my brain.

In that conversation, the heart won. I walk into the little room where you have to be buzzed in. Alex _has_ to be home. I check the directory and find her name - _Vause, 221B_.

I stop myself before punching in the numbers. Will she answer? Might as well try. Two, another two, one, then B. I'm only waiting for a couple seconds when I hear a voice coming from the intercom in her room.

"Hello?" it's not the usual low rumble that belongs to Alex, but its definitely feminine . "Hello? Is anyone there?" she asks again. The voice asks three more times, then I hear a loud crackle, confirming she's hung up. I slump down on the floor, leaning my back against the concrete wall. Alex is home, with Silvia, most likely. I don't know why, I just hoped they'd have broken up, that Alex was waiting for me with open arms.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I pick myself off the floor and make my way out into the darkened street, making sure to slam the door behind me.

**—**

**Hey there!**

**Thank you for waiting so long for this chapter to be released, I've been both busy and procrastinating for a month, but hopefully I'll be able to write more depending on my schedule. I have the next two chapters planned out, and hopefully I'll be able to write and publish them as soon as possible. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! **


	5. Nosy

_Silvia_

Sometimes, when bad things happen to me, subconsciously, I know what's really happening but my brain keeps me from piecing it all together. Like it's trying to keep me from getting hurt. I slow down, and I don't understand things quick enough. But when I see actual proof of the bad thing that's happening, reality comes crashing down on me despite my brain trying to keep me from hurting. It's why I was confused that I saw clothes strewn on the ground and the door unlocked. And why everything clicked when I saw the naked slut in my bed.

Alex isn't even coming after me. She's comforting her mistress. I find it evident once I make it outside the building, hide around the corner, and wait for Alex to burst out of the front door, yelling my name. She doesn't. A minute later, I'm about to give up and find a place to stay, when _she_ runs out.

I don't know or care for her name, but considering the fact that she's barefoot and fuming, I lessen my hate towards her and Alex. But only by a fraction. Since I have nothing better to do, I decide to follow her. It's a not very busy on the sidewalks, so hopefully she won't notice her lover's girlfriend following her.

After a few minutes of watching Slutty McGee rage-walk her way down the sidewalks of my neighborhood, she digs around in her purse, grinding to a halt as she whips out her phone. We're outside the local Footlocker. As she reads something on her phone, I peer inside the store. Through the glass I watch a boy try on some shoes while his mother watches.

I've never told Alex, but I've always wanted a kid. She would never want a kid, though. Even if we couldn't make one, I guess I was just born with motherly instincts, while Alex pretty much hates kids. I continue to watch the boy and his mom, accompanied by a sales associate. A man approaches them and the mom starts talking to him. For some reason, the guy gets flustered and walks away. I probably shouldn't have been so nosy, but hey, I was a Child Pysch major in college. I noticed while the man and woman were talking, the kid who was trying on the shoes was getting embarrassed, even angry.

After the guy leaves the kid stands up, kicks over a stack of shoe boxes, and runs out, conveniently running into my dear friend Alex's Mistress. Penny (Is that her name? It's some rich-ass white girl name) shrieks and drops her phone. Into the trash can outside the store. _Karma's a bitch. _After a second or two of staring numbly into the trash, Penny begins turning around, probably trying to see who hit her. I quickly throw my hood up, look down, and walk past her. I stop at the window of the next store, pretending to admire the great deals that Papa John's offers. Wait a second… a large pizza, beverage, and an order of breadsticks for $20? Holy shit! I make a mental note to stop by Papa Johns later, and resume watching Penny.

Penny goes into the Footlocker, not even bothering to try and get her phone back. Once the door shuts behind her, I sprint over to the trash can. Tossing a hamburger and a few wrappers aside, I find it. I know it's hers considering the fact that 1. It's pink 2. Not everyone gets their phone thrown in the trash then doesn't bother to dig around a little bit.

Stuffing the phone in my pocket, I look around for a place to avoid Alex for the time being — but not _too_ far away, in case I need to yell at Alex if she tries to contact Penny again. My stomach growls, trying to give it's input on where I should stake out. I agree. Papa Johns sounds good, plus, who can beat those prices?

It's two hours later when Alex first calls Penny's phone. Good. The Papa John's employees have been giving me suspicious glances for the past hour. She's been calling and texting _my_ phone nonstop since both Penny and I left the apartment, but the only phone I care for at the moment is the dumbass pink one. Penny is long gone, I watched her head in the direction of the subway (with shoes on, which is pretty smart considering how dirty the subway is) a few minutes after I went to Papa Johns. For the next five or so minutes, that stupid ass pink phone keeps ringing, and ringing, and ringing. I ignore the calls from Alex and wait for her to leave a voicemail. Not one minute later, and the pink hunk of metal is buzzing around, this time telling me, _You have: 1 Unheard Voicemail._

Wiping my clammy hands on my jeans, I grab the phone and punch in the number to hear it.

"Hey…it's me." Alex's deep voice comes in through the phone. "Listen, I meant to tell you about my girlfriend, okay? It's…we're complicated. I thought she was going to dump me and I…I got afraid. So when you called me, I just seized the opportunity to get to know you in case she did. Because I really, _really, _like you. And I think you like me too. If you think you can forgive me, give me a call."

This is it. The last straw. Alex, my so-called "faithful" girlfriend, has feelings for her mistress. I wipe at the tears that begin to escape from my eyes. Grabbing my bag, I stalk out of Papa Johns and make my way onto the sidewalk. I start making my way over to my friend Christina's apartment, it's not too far away. By this point I've stopped trying to wipe away at my eyes and the tears are steadily flowing down. I'm about to pass a bar, when I stop. I could use a few drinks.

Five shots and three beers later, I'm about to leave when I run into a guy who just came in. There were no hot girls here, but I guess I can lower my standards and straighten my arrow for one night. He's cute, too. Dark brown hair and a nice face. Big enough to sit on. His nose is way too big, though. He's actually pretty fucking ugly, but through my intoxicated eyes he looks good…goodish.

"Heyyyy," I slur, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "Wanna, get out of here?"

"I, uh, me?" Nose stammers.

"Who else is arounnd heres?" He blushes, then, as if he's ashamed of accepting a one night stand, nods his head. I pat his head.

"Okayy buddy bud boy. Les go." We walk down the steps with my arm still around his broad shoulders, and as he's hailing a cab, he says, "Hey, you probably won't remember this part of the evening, but my name's Larry."

—

**Hey guys!**

**I know I said I'd update sooner, but I've been recovering from a concussion for the past month or so. I have the next chapter planned out, but I'm going on a trip in a few days so if I write during that time it'll probably be when I'm traveling. Please let me know if you want me to continue this fic, and if you have any comments, don't hesitate to leave one! Hope you enjoyed this chapter :)**


	6. Trust No Bitch

**YAY! I'VE FINALLY UPDATED WITHIN A MONTH OF THE LAST CHAPTER! ENJOY :)**

**—**

_Alex_

Fucked. That's what I am. I haven't heard from Piper or Silvia yet, and it's already past eleven. I've been waiting for news from either of them for six hours. _Six._ _Damn. Hours._ For the fast paced life of an international drug smuggler like me, that's a long, long time. I've practically made a mold of my butt from sitting on the hard wooden chairs in the kitchen for so long.

_RRIIIIIINNGGGGG! _The sound of my phone brings me back to reality. I seriously need to put it on at the caller ID, I'm met with disappointment. No Piper. No Silvia. Why can't they understand that I love both of them so much? I should become Mormon, get that whole multiple wives thing going on.

_RRIIIIIINNGGGGG! _

_ RRIIIIIINNGGGGG! _

I might as well pick up. It's my job, after all. Not to mention she's one of my best customers.

_RRIIIIIINNGGGGG! _

I take a few deep breathes, flip open the phone, and say, "Vee! I haven't heard from you in a while. Come for more?"

The smooth voice belonging to Vee Parker answers my question "Ah, a pleasure as usual, Alex. Mind if I drop by?"

"Come on down. So long as you bring me a present, you'll always be welcome here."

"I'll be there in 20."

The phone clicks off. Good. If theres anything I've learned from this business, it's to always be brief. I'll hand her a cheap knockoff purse filled with the stuff, as usual, while she gives me my regular fee. It'll take five minutes, tops.

Making a mental note to finally put my phone on silent, I make my way through the apartment to the bathroom. Hidden in the wall behind the medicine cabinet is a small steel black safe that's been painted over to match the light blue hues of the bathroom.

_3-7-34._

The lock clicks and the door swings open, revealing loaded revolver. I grab it, lock the safe closed, then head over to the bookshelf while stuffing the gun in my pants. I crouch down low, which is quite the feat considering I'm wearing skinny jeans. On the bottommost shelf, I pick out _The Hobbit_ by J.R.R. Tolkien. It's one of my favorites. And although I love LOTR, it makes for a handy drug stash. I flip open the cover and take out five big bags filled with heroin. Yeesh. I've had personal experience seeing what it does to people, and to me, they're pretty much a walking Hugs-Not-Drugs ad.

Going through random spots on the bookshelf, I eventually fill up the fake Michael Kors bag. I check the time. Midnight. Vee should be here any second. Actually, she's twenty minutes late. The bitch runs on her own clock.

As if on que, I hear a buzz from the intercom near the door. It's her. I press the button to let her in, and wait for her to either climb the stairs or come via elevator. I'm guessing elevator, because she's a lazy piece of shit. A very _loyal_ lazy piece of shit. A minute later, Vee's knocking on the door and I'm opening the door to welcome her. Customer service, am I right?

And there she enters, chocolate skin with curls of dark brown hair. A wide smile full of pearly white teeth greets me. She's big, but in a good way. Is there a good way? I'm not sure.

"Alex." Vee says, opening her arms up for a hug. I oblige, making note that she has a new perfume on today. Too strong. I leave and am making my way to the bedroom, where the bag is sitting on the dresser, when I hear it.

_ BZZZZZZZT!_

Vee's sitting in the kitchen, but I can still hear her clearly.

"You expecting someone? At this hour?"

Relief floods my face, and I'm glad Vee can't see me. It must be Silvy. or Piper? Either way, a broad grin crosses my face. Still smiling, I call out, "Oh, it's probably Silvia. Just make sure it's her. Wouldn't want any strangers, would we?"

I've got the bag in my hands as Vee answers the intercom.

"Hello?" She asks. After a few seconds, "Hello? Is anyone there?" Pause. "Hello?"

Vee repeats the question a couple more times before turning around to face me, a confused look on her face.

"There was someone on the other end. I heard them breathe."

Piper. It must be her. Silvia would've used her key. Piper's back. My mind explodes, and I fight the urge to smile in front of Vee.

I tell her, "Wait here, I'll be back in a few minutes."

Grabbing the bag and my key, I sprint out of the apartment and down the four flights of stairs out into the darkened street. The only light is a few feeble streetlamps, but still, I see a blonde head walking away. It's her. My breathing becomes short and I remind myself to act calm.

I cup a hand over my mouth, and like in the bar just a few short weeks ago, call out, "Hey, you. Laura Ingalls Wilder."

Piper stops short, and begins to turn around.

_Vee_

Trust no bitch. That's my life motto. So when someone came to Alex's building not one minute after I walked through the threshold, I started becoming suspicious. Alex is one of the best suppliers I have, so it would be a shame if our dealings had to end.

I dig around in my purse, and come up with five small black chips, roughly the size of a dung beetle. Walking around the apartment, I start placing them in various places. I take my time. One on the bedpost, one underneath the sink. One above the doorframe that I walked through a few minutes ago, one underneath the table in the kitchen. I still have one left. Hmm, where to? Contemplating for a few minutes, I decide to place the last one underneath a desk in the bedroom. I'm just admiring my handiwork when Alex bursts through the door, tears strewn on her face.

Putting on my best sympathetic pout, I walk over and rub her arm. "Honey, what's wrong?"

Through a few sniffles, Alex makes out, "Oh, d-don't worry, Vee. Just an old flame."

"You poor thing. You know what," I say, pulling out a roll of bills from my purse, "Heres an extra $50."

"V-Vee, that's really nice of you," Alex says, wiping at her nose, "But I can't accept it."

"You can, and you will, Alex." I gently take the bag from her arms and press the roll into her hands.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you."

"See you next time, Vee."

And with that, I'm gone.

I still don't trust her. But I need her trust in order to continue doing business with Alex Vause.

Stopping outside the building, I open up my phone and send a text to one of my boys. _Her apartment is infested with bugs. I trust you know what to do_. I'm on my way to the subway station when the first car pulls up, sirens screaming. Fuck. A burly officer approaches and snatches the Michael Kors away from me. He holds it down to a dog clad in a K9 uniform. The dog immediately starts barking. As if he needed more proof, he takes a peek inside the bag, to see the piles of heroin.

JESUS CHRIST. VAUSE USED CLEAR BAGS. Has she been playing me all along?

The officer takes the handcuffs from his belt. FUCK.

"Ma'am, I'm going to need some form of identification."

"Is there a problem, Officer?" I take my driver's license out of my purse. He takes it from my hand and takes a glance.

"Yvonne Parker?" I nod. He begins taking my hands behind my back, while reciting, " , you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." He begins escorting me into the back seat of the police car.

"You have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you." He slams the door shut, and with that, my life as the biggest kid on the block has officially ended. I'm on my way to the big house.


	7. Brooklyn Calling

**Phew! I had intentionally planned on making this a longer chapter but decided to split it up. Hopefully chapter eight will make it out next week? **

**Reviews = Happy Author = Quicker Updates :) Enjoy!**

**—**

_Piper_

Just as I think I have my closure, that I'm done with her for good, I hear it. A deep, familiar voice echoing into the night.

"Hey, you. Laura Ingalls Wilder."

I stop in my tracks. Gripping my arms tightly, I start to turn around, slowly. It's as if the world is tipping over, and I am the anchor. If I let go, I'll tip and fall into her arms. I can't fall for Alex Vause, because she's a girl. And I'm a girl. A straight girl. At least, I thought I was straight. I can't face her right now, she'll make the entire world explode. Instead, I opt to stare down at the concrete where a pair of bare feet, hopping up and down to keep warm, approach me. I grit my teeth.

"What do you want?"  
"I think you know the answer to that question, Piper." I shudder. Just her saying my name makes me sway on the spot.

"You sicken me." I spit out. "I hate you, and I hope your _girlfriend _dumps your sorry ass."

Alex scoffs. "Please. We both know that isn't true." My blood boils. Keeping my intent stare at the ground, I say, "What, that your 'Silvy' won't dump you after she found out you're a cheater? How would you expect me, or even her, to trust you after that? You just play different girls off each other, and for what? Your _amusement?_ It's sick. You're sick. Don't expect me to catch your disease." I turn around and begin to stomp away, when her voice stops me again.

"Y-You don't mean that. I'll call you later, when you've had a night of rest."

This time, I'm so angered I have the stomach to whirl around without crumbling into her. I start to tremble, and finally allow the anger I've been holding up inside free.

"_What did you say?_ That I'm fucking _sleep deprived_, Alex?" She backs up, into a brighter patch of light, where I see her entire body for the first time since we started talking. She's clutching a Michael Kors, but otherwise, she's wearing the exact same outfit as earlier. Which just makes it worse. My eyes rove around her body for a split second, but as I begin to fall, I pull myself back together. "_You _don't get to talk. This whole mess, it's _your _fucking fault. Not mine. Not your _girlfriend's_. YOURS. You need to own up to yourself, and for God's sake, get it together." I nod towards the bag in her arms. "I'm guessing that's your other mistresses' bag, so don't even bother anymore. Don't try contacting me, I won't respond. Have a nice life, and go fuck yourself."

This time, when I turn around and walk away, she doesn't stop me. The street is empty, so I can hear her crying all the way to the subway station. It's a good thing I learned how to do so quietly. Silently, I allow a few tears to escape from my eyes as I descend into the station. I thought I was her one and only. Until Silvy. And the Michael Kors whore. I must have been wrong. Unless…

Alex was holding on to the bag protectively. Like there was something important about it… or inside of it. My hopes get up. If I call the police, and there's nothing worthwhile inside the bag, then everything's fine. If there _is_ something, well, I guess I'll find out. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I take out a handful of spare change. I walk over to a payphone and put 50 cents in. I listen to them clank into the machine. My hand hovers over the numbers on the keypad before dialing.

_9-1-1_

"911, what's your emergency?" asks a smooth voice.

"Hello, I'm currently at the subway station near Morningside apartments in the Bronx. I just passed a woman on the street who seemed to have a purse full of drugs. Could you please send an officer down?"

"Of course ma'am, one is being dispatched right now. Do you think you could stay on the line with me?"

I smirk, and say, "Oh, no. I'm sorry sir, but I have to go." Slamming the phone on the receiver, I dig my hands back into my jacket pockets and board the train that just arrived. Goodbye, Alex.

I arrive back in at Polly and I's townhouse at about 1:30 in the morning. Still, I'm restless. I slam the door shut, to realize that Polly's still asleep and less than ten feet away from me. Thank God she's a heavy sleeper. I still tiptoe around her in my socks, after all, better be safe than sorry. Still tiptoeing, I slowly — and not as steadily — make my way through the cluttered apartment. I almost trip over a stack of magazines. Twice. I finally get to my room, where I find today's paper resting on my old desk from college. Ah, Smith. I've spent many nights cramming for tests and frantically writing essays at this time in the morning. Flipping through the articles, I find what I've been looking for. Grabbing a stray pen from a desk drawer, I begin circling.

Later that morning, Polly pads into the kitchen from the living room, where she had been blissfully at rest on the couch since last night. Her eyes widen in surprise when she sees the wooden table laden with breakfast foods.

"What's all this for?" Polly asks. Her expression goes from surprised to worried in a matter of seconds. "Shit, did I forget your birthday?"

"No, no, no, nothing like that, Pol." I say, offering her a slice of toasted whole wheat. "Just trying to butter you up so you'll go along with this."

Her eyes narrow as she snatches the toast from me, then selects a jar of strawberry jam from the center of the table.

"Go along with what?" She asks, eyes still narrowed in suspicion. In response, I pull out the newspaper page I had pored over less than ten hours ago. I slide it across the table to her, and wait for her reaction.

"You want to move…to Brooklyn? Are you out of yo-"

"Okay, okay, just hear me out." I say, before she can begin one of her infamous Piper-What-Were-You-Thinking rants.

"I found a place that's half the rent here. It's two bedroom, one bath, and it's right by this park, something Bennett Park, I know how you like to go runn-"

"Okay." Polly says quietly, looking up from the newspaper. "Let's go."

My eyes meet hers. I wasn't actually sure she would go through with it, but sometimes she surprises me.

"Seriously?" I ask.

"Yeah, I mean, why not?" We could stay here till the end of the month, and get the other place when we're done here. Plus, we could go Black Friday shopping for furniture." She gestures to the barely furnished apartment. "All we have is our stuff from college and a few other things."

Launching myself into her arms from across the table, I let out, "Oh my God, thank you so much Pol, you don't know how much this means to me."

Polly laughs, "No problem. But Pipes?"

"Yeah?"

"You're on top of my toast." I pull away, and peel the toast off my sweater.

"Shit." I mutter, attempting to wipe the pink sticky residue off the wool.

"But hey," Polly points out, "We're moving!"

And so, we moved from 850 10th Avenue, New York, New York to Mill Avenue, Brooklyn, New York on the first of December. What Polly hasn't realized, is that I didn't move to live near a park. It takes twice as long to go from the Bronx to Brooklyn than it does to get to Manhattan. But she doesn't need to know that.


	8. Run, Alex, Run

**I'm so sorry for the long wait guys :( I said I would publish this within a few days of chapter seven, but I've been so busy for the past weeks I haven't had time to finish this chapter. I have chapter nine planned out now, It's just a matter of when I can write it. Enjoy!**

**—**

_Alex_

My headphones block out the noise of the crowded airport surrounding me. If I take them off, the music would be replaced by conversations spoken in different tongues, the clicking of heels on the tile floor, and announcements broadcasted throughout the giant airport. I stop by a store advertising different souvenirs for tourists to buy. There are sweatshirts and tee shirts, all of them with AMSTERDAM brandished on them. I run a hand across a medium sized shirt, feeling the soft factory-made cotton between my fingers. I didn't pack much anyways.

_Ten Hours Earlier_

"_You _don't get to talk. This whole mess, it's _your _fucking fault. Not mine. Not your _girlfriend's_. YOURS. You need to own up to yourself, and for God's sake, get it together." Piper glances over at the Michael Kors bag, the one stuffed with heroine. By this point, a few teardrops have already escaped my eyes. I can't help but want to either kill or kiss the girl standing in front of me for having this hold on me. She's tearing me to shreds and I can't even fight her.

"I'm guessing that's your other mistresses' bag, so don't even bother anymore. Don't try contacting me, I won't respond. Have a nice life, and go fuck yourself." I hear Piper walk away, and finally allow the tears to rain down on my face. I try to be silent, but a cry rings through the night. She knows what she's done to me. Less than twelve hours ago I told her how I felt about her, and she makes me feel dead inside. I make a useless attempt to wipe at my eyes, turn, and walk my freezing feet back to the building.

Just as I'm turning the doorknob to my apartment, I remember that Vee's inside. Screw it. I open the door, making sure Vee sees the dried tear marks on my cheeks.

Vee comes over, rubs my arm, and asks, "Honey, what's wrong?"

Through a few sniffles, I say, "Oh, d-don't worry, Vee. Just an old flame."

"You poor thing." She says. "You know what," I hear a crinkle coming from nearby and feel her press a wad of bills into my hand. "Heres an extra $50."

I wipe my running nose. "V-Vee, that's really nice of you. But I can't accept it."

Even though I'm crying, I still have some sense left in me. My sense is telling me to not trust Vee Parker.

"You can, and you will, Alex." Vee says. I feel the Michael Kors being lifted from my arms. "It was a pleasure doing business with you."

I open the door for Vee, and wave goodbye. "See you next time, Vee."

Once she leaves, I walk over to the bed, where I promptly fall face-first and lay there for a while, feeling my feet slowly thaw out. I start drifting off to sleep when I hear my phone ring. Grunting, my hands check around the bed and make their way to the back pocket of my jeans. The caller ID on the screen says, BRONX POLICE STATION. Shit. I throw my phone on the floor. It rings three more times, then falls silent.

No. Whatever it is, I can _never_ be associated with the cops. I sprint over to the closet, throw the doors open, and feel for the zipper of my suitcase. Throwing the suitcase on the bed, I begin grabbing clothes at random and stuffing them inside. I'm done within five minutes of the call. I pad over to where my phone lies on the floor, silent. I pick it up and dial the contact _BALIK. _He answers after two rings.

"Vause! I heard from Levi that the next shipment from Amsterdam is finished. You up for a trip?" I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God for Levi needing me to smuggle his shit internationally.

"Of course. When do I leave?" It's best not to mention to Kubra that the cops are on to me.

"Now, Vause. There's a red eye leaving La Guardia in an hour. See you in Europe. _Ciao!"_ Theres a buzz, and I know he's hung up on me. Hanging my headphones around my neck, I grab my passport and leave the apartment.

_Schiphol Airport, Amsterdam_

I pay the cashier for the shirt and tuck it in my suitcase. Bon Jovi blasts in my ears, and I take a few deep breathes. They won't find me as easily now. But seriously, that was an eight hour flight. Even though it's eleven in the morning, I'm getting a drink. I find my way to the bar and strike up a conversation with a pretty blonde. Not _my_ Blondie, but she's not bad. She's not straight. When she takes my hand, I try to imagine she's Piper. But then I remind myself that Piper is the first person to make me cry in five years. I should've followed Rule #1: Don't fall in love with a straight girl. They make your life hell.


	9. Susie

_Piper_

It's been a week since Polly and I have moved to Brooklyn, but I already love it. Even though it's freezing outside, we go running around the park almost every day. So far we've been surviving off of takeout and what was brought with us from the townhouse, but today I planned on going to Downtown Brooklyn for some shopping. I decided to pay a visit to the Fairway in Red Hook once I finish. Polly went ahead on her run, she loves her fitness as much as she complains about it.

I make my way throughout the fluorescent-lit aisles, making checks off the list as I go. Milk, check. Eggs, check. Flour, check. Polly plans on making holiday cookies. I plan on being the official taste-tester. Unfortunately, one of the taste-tester's jobs is to buy ingredients.

I arrive at the candy aisle. Polly told me to get some holiday-themed sprinkles, but which ones? Traditional snowflakes or the new red and green sprinkles? I buy both. I head to the checkout lane, where the cashier begins scanning the items. She has mousey brown hair pulled up into a ponytail, and these big blue eyes that make her look like a Margaret Keane painting. Her name tag says, Susie.

She notices me looking at her and I see her face flush. Susie looks back at me and says, "I haven't seen you here before. You new in town?" I nod.

"Yeah, my roommate and I moved here a few weeks ago." I say, pulling my wallet out of my purse. "We haven't even been able to hang up our Christmas lights yet."

Laughing, Susie says, "Well, don't beat yourself up about it. My boyfriend and I still have to buy a tree."

"Ooooh, a boyfriend?" I ask.

"Yes," Susie blushes. "I moved in with him a while ago."

I wish I had a boyfriend. No, just someone. I guess Susie could tell when my next "Oh." was less enthusiastic.

"Hey, I'm sure you'll find someone." She says.

"I know, I know, but the problem is that I think I already found that person. Have you ever felt, you know, like if you touched them it would just feel, I don't know, electric?"

"Um, no."

"Okay, well just imagine that. But then you find out the person has a girlfriend and you just fucked up your moral compass."

"Uh, okay."

I continue, "Still, you want that person. You know there's something there, but you don't know if they feel it too. Also, the last time I saw this person I think it was the last time I'll see them for a while, and I just don't kn-"

"Wait." Susie stops me.

"What?"

"If you feel this way about a person, then why aren't you with them right now. I know that it's not right from a moral standpoint, but you could see if he broke up with his girlfriend. Plus, you didn't know, it's more his fault than yours."

I don't feel like pointing out that Alex is a she, but Susie has a good point. Maybe…

"Oh! Also, your total is $17.69, but I'm supposed to advertise these reusable grocery bags…so if you want to buy them I'll just repack your items." Susie says, muttering the last part.

"Yeah…yeah, okay." I say, not completely registering what she just said. Should I go there? If I go right now, I could get there and back to the apartment before Polly would get too suspicious. Susie sighs and starts putting the baking ingredients in a green bag with a big recycling sign on it. There's also a little potted plant on it. Huh. Susie finishes putting all my items in the recycling bag and I hand her a $20. I dash out onto the sidewalk, and continue on to the nearest subway station.

_An hour and a half later…_

I stumble out of the subway station and into the Bronx, New York. I almost run into a pair of grubby-looking homeless girls begging for money on the street. They're both wearing hats to keep warm but I can see unruly, knotted hair underneath. One is a dirty blonde, the other, brunette. The blonde is clutching a notebook. I give them a dollar.

While I'm walking away I hear one of them say, "See! I told you if we stand more people will give to us."

I round the corner past the Papa John's when I see it. Alex's building. She hasn't tried to see me at all, she actually did everything I told her to a few weeks ago. Why hasn't she called? It's been eating away at me. My pace quickens.

There I am, I'm passing by the rusted sign telling me the building is called _Morningside Apartments_. My finger hesitates over the button that says _221B_. Alex's apartment._ Silvy's_ apartment. I press it anyways. I can feel my chest rising up and down while my heartbeat quickens. Why isn't she answering? I press the button one more time, then once more, okay maybe she's avoiding me let's try a fourth ti-

"Hello?" It's not Alex. But the voice sounds a lot like one that screamed at me while my only cover was a sheet. Silvia.

"Hello? Is anyone here or is this a fucking ghost calling me?" Silvia asks. In the background I hear a deeper voice ask, "S, is someone there?"

Alex. It must be. To further confirm my thoughts, Silvia says, "No, babe, probably just some kid."

I can't believe it. I didn't think Alex would get back with Silvia. I thought they would break up and everything would work out. Polly's words come back to me when I first told her about Alex.

"What, you mean you'd want to see that cheating whore again? After you were her mistress, then got attacked by her psycho girlfriend with a stupid nickname?"

Polly's right. Again. This is the second time I've turned up at her place, waiting to see her standing there with open arms, only to have that image shattered. Again. God damn Alex Vause. I turn on my heels and stomp my way to the subway station, ignoring the homeless girls on my way back. Karma's for suckers. Technically, that makes me a sucker. I keep that thought in mind until I see Polly again in our apartment, wearing sweatpants and an apron that says, "SANTA". She then points to the kitchen table, where an identical apron lays there. It says, "SANTA'S BITCH".

In that moment, I decide not to tell her that she was right about Alex. We bake cookies and listen to holiday music instead. Sometimes it's better to push everything away, even temporarily.

_Silvia_

I take my finger off the intercom and turn to the bed, where Larry rests, waiting for me.

"That was close." I say, while making my way to him. I bury my head into his bare chest, look up at him, and whisper, "I guess we'll have to be more careful next time."


	10. How to Survive

**Hey guys! I'm really, really sorry about not updating. Hopefully, with school coming to an end I'll have a lot more time to write and continue with this fanfic. So far I have the next two chapters also written, so please let me know when you'd like them to be released either by private message or commenting (weekly, every three days, etc). Again, sorry for the two month hiatus. Enjoy!**

_Silvia_

I know, I know. I should feel guilty. But I don't. Why should I? Alex is AWOL, plus she already cheated on me. I don't need to apologize. I don't want to apologize.

With Larry, I feel like I have a purpose again. I loved Alex, but I always felt that I put her on a pedestal, and by doing so I encouraged her to push me aside and jump in bed with Penny. I can't get enough of Larry. He's smart, and sweet, and actually listens to me. When I'm with him, I feel _happy_. I haven't felt like that in a while.

I still love Alex, though. I love her a lot. I've decided to give her a second chance. Larry is my way of getting my vengeance on her without her knowing, and I'm sure he'll still be my friend if I _do_ get back together with Alex. Sure, he doesn't know about her, but I'll just explain it to him later. Right?

"Hey, sleepyhead," Larry says, poking my nose. "What're you thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing." I lie.

"Do you want to go out to eat somewhere?" He asks, looking down past his shoulder to meet my eyes with his, whilst his right arm is draped lazily around my shoulders.

"No," I say. "I'd rather do something else." _Something else to distract me._

Larry smiles, showing off the whites of his teeth and the dimples on either side of his mouth. "I think I can help with that," He says, drawing me close. Our lips touch, and I'm happy.

_Vee_

The squad car stops in front of a dejected-looking cluster of buildings.

"Welcome to your new home," the guard says, sarcastic as usual. As if I haven't been behind bars before. He leads me through to the even more dejected-looking interior. I take the usual tests, get shuffled into some crude orange clothes stamped with the letters "D.O.C.", and brought to my room. As I approach the doorway, I hear a New York accent say, "Haven't brushed my teeth since we came in yesterday. Starting to feel like an angora sweater in there."

Strolling into my new room, I find an extremely nervous looking redhead huddled up in the corner beneath a mud brown blanket. I assume the New Yorker is the other woman in the room, a thickset Spanish lady with thick, shoulder-length brown hair. Both look to be roughly my age. New York falls silent as I claim an empty top bunk as mine, but speaks up again when I start peeling the green mattress back to make the bed.

"Oh, uh…There's this lady in here, Carla. She'll want to do that for you."

Without hesitation, I retaliate. "I've been around before. I got it."

I turn away to continue making the bed, all while expecting New York to say something. _Anything_. All she does is pick up a roll of toilet paper, mutter, "I gotta take a leak," and stalk out the door. At least, _try_ to stalk out the door. One her way out she runs into the black girls. The leader shoves New York to the side while her lackeys follow in. One is holding a basket full of toiletries. Their leader, and older woman with close cropped black hair and nearly impeccable skin approaches me. Theres a white three fingered arc of a scar near her right eye, and another long white scar running down the inside of her forearm. I know what the arm means, but on her face? No clue.

"You Parker?" She asks. "Rhonda." She gestures, and the basket is placed in my hands. "Brought you some stuff, a little welcome basket," Rhonda continues. "We'll see you at breakfast." Rhonda &amp; Co. turn and begin walking away when I call out, "I don't eat breakfast. It upsets my stomach."

Rhonda turns around and walks, walks slowly and menacingly towards me. It's almost comical. She gets nice and close up to my face, and says, "You eat it now. Let's go."

And with a single sweep of her arm, all of Rhonda's lackeys follow after. I turn to Red, who bows her head as if she wasn't there to witness my first meeting with Rhonda.

"You want some of this?" I ask, holding the basket out. She shakes her head. "No, thank you."

Glancing down at the contents of the welcome basket, I take a quick inventory.

"Three toothbrushes in here. It's just showing off." I look up and approach her. Not slow and menacing, like Rhonda. My prowl is less suspicious.

"Here. Take one, please." I say, holding the basket out to her. Red lightly plucks one from the basket and whispers a quiet, "Thank you." I pluck a tube of toothpaste from the basket and offer it to her. "Get some toothpaste, too," I say. Red accepts. With a hint of a smile on her forlorn face, she says, "You're very kind."

Good. It's good to have friends in prison. Even if they're scared. And Russian. I could tell from the moment she spoke her first syllable to me. Walking away, I take the sheets out of my bag and sigh.

"You got assigned a work detail yet?" I ask. I toss the pillow off the bed continue to unfurl the sheets.

"Kitchen." Red says. Damn.

"That's a plum gig." I can hear the creak of the bedsprings as Red stands up.

"Yes, it feels like home. My family, we own a small market, and I serve food there."

"Yeah? You a good cook?" God, I hope she is. The last time I was in this situation, the cook was horrible, and I somehow managed to piss her off. That was my first prison lesson, never bite the hand that feeds you. Literally. I was taking care of a dog for the program and it bit the chef's hand. Needless to say, I have disliked dogs ever since.

Red puffs out her chest. Ah, Russians, always so proud. "I am very good," she says. "And get this. I use the same produce people that the kitchen here uses. Although, if they delivered me the shit they send here, I would throw it in their faces." Feisty. Now that she's started, I wonder if I can get Red to mute again. I lift up the corner of the mattress and slip the sheet underneath, then cross to the other end of the bed to repeat.

"They knew to give me the good stuff," She says with a smirk. "They owed me." Her voice lowers to almost a snarl. "Now they _really_ owe me. Neptune. Stupid name. I told them Neptune is for seafood, not _fruit_."

I continue to make the bed, all while listening to Red. She knows the produce people. Let's just see if she's smart enough to use that connection to her advantage. I finish the sheets, and pat down on the top of the bed.

"You know a vendor?" I ask, as if I didn't already know that.

"Know them? They're here because of me. And I'm here because of them."

"You need to use that," I tell her. "Make your life here better."

Red shakes her head, and clings to the upper bunk above hers while she puts on a pair of shoes. "Breaking the rules is what got me in here." She says, the frown returning to her face.

"Yeah, well, I'm not telling you what to do, you know. I'm just telling you how to survive."

I feel her eyes on my back as I finish up the bed, place the pillow on top, and stroll out of the room. Like I didn't have a care in the world.


	11. Tabasco

**Hey guys! Shortish chapter today, but I pinky promise chapter twelve, aka "Fireworks" will be up next week! Either the 29th or the 30th, just depending on my schedule. Enjoy!**

Somewhere, in an office in the back of a store in the heart of Queens, New York City, a phone rings. The receiver is picked up.

_An inmate from Litchfield Federal Penitentiary is attempting to contact you. To answer, press one._

There's a pause. Then, a dark-skinned finger presses down on the one.

"RJ? Is that you?"

"Yes, Ma, I'm here."

"Good. Good. Give me an update on the infestation of bugs in our good friend Alex's apartment."

"Well, you know the girlfriend?"

"Yes, I know about Silvia. I think they had a fight the night I was arrested."

"Yeah, well…" RJ trails off.

"Well, what, RJ? Tell me."

"She's cheating. On Alex… with a _dude_."

"RJ?"

"What?"

"Give me Alex's cell phone number. I have a call to make."

_Vee_

The call was less than a minute, but I emerge clinging to a scrap of paper with the numbers of Vause's phone scrawled across it. I tuck it into the seam of my pants and let the beige and grey of my long sleeve/short sleeve combination fall over it. I weave my way through the prison to the cafeteria, all while making sure I still have that slip of paper with me. I stroll straight through the empty cafeteria to the kitchen, where I see Red cutting thick slices of bread for lunch. The mute one is also with her, but since she doesn't do much I typically ignore her. Plastering a smile on my face, I tear off a chunk from an a slice and take a bite out of it while Red gives a deep sigh. Like I was a kid who stole a cookie from the jar before dinnertime. Today her crimson hair is caught up in a hairnet, as required by all kitchen staff. The Mute is wearing one too.

"You know, that slice is ruined now. Might as well just take the rest of it." Red says, smirking. I snatch the slice from the table and resume eating. "Just expect a sandwich with no top."

"And why would you do that?" I ask.

"Because _these_ are for _everyone_ for their lunch breaks," Red says, waggling the serrated knife at me. "That, and people don't want their taxes paying for the meals of drug dealers, murderers, and God-knows-what else."

"Oh well." I say. After a pause to make sure the Mute isn't listening, I lower my voice and ask, "Have you considered my offer?"

Red flushes. "No." She admits. "I stand by what I said last week. Breaking the rules got me in here, breaking the rules won't get me back out."

"Oh, _come on._ You know how much profit you can make off of this! You told me they owe you. Why not let them pay off your debt in here? Red, I know for a fact your commissary hasn't come in yet, you keep borrowing my shampoo."

Red pauses, and I can tell she's actually debating it. Instead she asks, "Aren't you supposed to be working for eleven cents an hour?"

I hold my hands up mockingly and start walking backwards out of the kitchen, half a slice of thick white bread clutched in one hand. "You caught me. Guess I'll go back to janitorial, where I have no way of profiting they way you can. Just think about it."

That's where I leave Red for the second time, fuming as if she's waging an internal battle. Hopefully this one won't take as long as the Cold War.

During dinner, Rhonda saunters into the cafeteria, accompanied by a few girls trailing behind her. It's Taco Night tonight, which means we're feasting on soft shells, old lettuce, and "mystery meat". I don't know nor want to know what animal or part of an animal I'm eating. But they _do _have tabasco sauce. I offer some to Rhonda when she sits down.

Rhonda waves the bottle away. "No. I don't do spicy. Burns my tongue."

My mouth twitches into what I feel is a smile, because now I know just what to do to take her down.

_Alex_

I didn't end up in bed with the Dutch. It's not that she wasn't interested. Trust me, she was. It just felt _wrong._ Which is strange, because the last time I cheated on Silvia it didn't feel wrong. It felt good. I still remember it all, her blonde hair intertwined with my black, he feel of her skin underneath my lips, and the fireworks that accompanied every kiss.

The sound of a phone chirping brings me out from my daydream. Jesus, I need to turn that thing on silent. The dark metal cools my palm as I glance down on the screen of my phone. It says, _One new message from: BALIK_. Hesitating, I open it up.

_Vause! My thanks for your last minute…diplomacy with our good friend overseas. I heard you like travel. There's a seat for you on a plane home if you'd like to. It leaves in 3 hours. _

Damn, Kubra. It's like he could read my mind. He probably _can_ read my mind. I pack up my suitcase and return to the airport. The giant one, with conversations spoken in different tongues, the clicking of heels on the tile floor, and announcements broadcasted throughout it. But I don't hear any of that. All I hear is my music. That, and fireworks.


	12. Fireworks

**Sorry guys! It's been a hectic few weeks and I just completely forgot to update this. This was one of my favorite chapters to write, so I hope you like it as much as I do. Enjoy!**

_Alex_

Well, I've been back for a few weeks, but Piper won't answer any of my messages. Silvia was there when I came home, though, and it seems like she's given me another chance. We've been trying to do more things together so we went to go watch this burlesque show that our friend Rachel is in. Beforehand we, decided to get drinks at the bar next door. About twenty minutes in, we get our second round of shots. Silvy's arm is wrapped around my shoulders, and she eggs me on, while I say, "I'll take a…shot." Christina and her boyfriend cheer me on. She _still_ owes me ten dollars.

"It's all good," I chuckle. "Okay, I got this one." I take out a quarter, flip the coin, and… it bounces off the table.

"Oh, that was terrible!" I yell, while both Silvy and I laugh. Grabbing the shot glass, I down it in one swallow and feel my face twist up as the burn of alcohol runs down my throat. I clap. "Mmmm! Whoo!" I stand up to go to the bathroom. On my way there, I walk past a girl with waves of dirty blonde hair. I'm probably hallucinating. She can't be _my_ Blondie. Piper's too, I don't know, ice princessy to go to a burlesque show.

But then while I'm waiting in line, I feel a tap on my shoulder. When I turn around, I'm face to face with her. _My _Blondie.

_Piper_

Susie had told me about the burlesque show. That was a couple of days ago whilst rebagging my groceries after I remembered to get my recyclable bags from the car. She saw me looking over at a poster for it, and encouraged me to go check it out. _Thanks, Susie_. Now there was only a matter of inviting people to go with me. Polly has a yoga class tonight, and I feel like none of my other friends would want to go. I could ask Cal, but knowing him he's probably making pottery or singing "Kumbaya" in the woods somewhere. I've picked up a waitressing job at this '50s themed place called Moondance Diner, but I don't really know anyone else I work with who would go with me.

So there I am, sitting alone on a barstool, sipping a glass of Chardonnay before the show, when I see her laughing in the reflection of the bar's mirror. Alex. Who else has her signature square, black framed glasses? Her tattoo of an elaborate rose on her right shoulder with a small dancing woman next to it, the salt shaker on her left shoulder, the chain circling the middle of her forearm and one so small on her left that I can't read it? The thick, long black waves of hair with blue highlights that I held in my hands that day?

I remember that day. Crashing into her apartment, hungry hands ripping at the other's clothes. Our lips never parted, except for after we had fallen into the bed, arms wrapped around each other and hair already tangled. She taken her lips off mine then, and I watched as they left a trail of kisses down my neck, chest, and finally reaching their destination. I moaned then. I didn't stop until after she came up for air and kissed me again. On the lips, this time.

Alex walks past me. Instinctively, I duck my head. To myself, I say,_You idiot! You could've said something!_ Ugh. Part of me wants to follow her just to see her again. The other part wants to follow her so I see the angry red mark swell up against her face after I slap her. Not knowing which part of myself to side with, I follow her into the dim-lit, nearly empty bathroom.

There she is, leaning against the wall and looking as gorgeous as ever. The satin of my subdued pink spaghetti-strap starts to get sticky with my sweat. It's actually her. I feel my heartbeat pick up, and the butterflies in my stomach awaken. I hesitate just as I am close enough hear her soft breathing. I glance down, then up, summoning my courage.

"Hey," I say, loud enough for her to hear, but quiet enough for her to know I'm talking to her alone. She turns, looks at me, pauses. My heart pounds in my chest. After what feels like a lifetime, she cracks a small smile, and says, "Hey."

We keep smiling and looking at each other. God, she's beautiful. I guess I'm going with the lovestruck side of me, because I haven't hit her yet and don't plan on anytime soon.

Alex leans in closer. "What are you doing here?" She asks.

I blush. "Oh, I just, um…" And right at that moment, I manage to look past the tattoos and glasses that turn me on so much to see a poster on the bathroom wall, advertising for the show. Pointing to the poster, I continue, "I heard about the burlesque show." Thanks, Susie.

"Oh." Alex chuckles.

"You?" I ask, leaning against the wall.

"My friend Rachel's in it." Alex says. "She does this routine with a Ray Romano puppet."

I'm pretty sure she catches me staring, because she doubles back to say, "It's surprisingly sexy." We both laugh, and I make a mental note to pay attention to the Ray Romano act.

For a few seconds after the laughter dies out, we just continue looking at each other, watching the other's smile slowly fade. Mine dies quicker.

Alex groans. "Ugh…Look, I'm really sorry about that night, Piper." I look down at my feet, while Alex continues to talk. "I'm not a shady person."

I look away. "Oh, come on, don't worry about it. I mean, I've never been punched before. It was probably a good life experience." I say, smiling, all the while pressing more close to Alex. _Why am I doing this? _I ask myself. _Because this is Alex. _I lean back against a wooden stall door, less than a foot away from Alex, while she laughs.

Her face becomes serious again, and she says, "I meant it when I said that things were complicated. I'm new to this whole relationship thing. You know, I don't…" She trails off. "I don't know the rules." All while looking straight into my eyes with her pools of grass green.

"That's the whole problem, isn't it? Rules aren't any fun." I say.

The stall door opens and a girl walks out, breaking the moment. Alex closes it and focuses back on me with her pools of grass green hiding behind her thick-framed glasses. What she probably doesn't realize is that a second before I was capturing the moment in my head, because I know Silvia's with her, and I know I'll probably never see Alex again. Which breaks my heart.

Stepping back to Alex, I tell her, "Listen, I don't want to stand in the way of true love. I mean, if that is your future wife out there, by all means, tell me to back off." I begin to repeat the words I said to Polly, back when this all began. "But you pursued me, and I liked it." I hesitate, struggling to get the words out, because this would have been the part where Polly fell asleep and I went to Alex's building in the middle of the night and then everything would be ruined all over again. "I've…I've never felt…" Alex shoots a smirk at me and cocks an eyebrow. I continue talking, this time more confident. "You know, I've never really thought of myself as a very sexual person, but…ever since…" Alex licks her lips, and I nearly lose it. This time I come as close as I can, separating my body from hers by a fraction of an inch. The butterflies have all multiplied, and my heart is ready to burst out of my chest. I lean over her left shoulder, and whisper into her ear, "I want to taste what you taste like."

And when I pull back, I can tell my feelings for her are reciprocated. Why? Because she places her hand on my neck and draws me in for a kiss. And a second, then a third. By this point my hands are exploring her shoulders and back, and when she pulls away it's to open the bathroom stall door, where she pulls me in with a smile. This time, I'm going to be the one making her moan.


	13. Vausing

**Are you ready? This chapter contains the long awaited Vauseman lemon! Sorry for the delay in posting — it was a combination of my hatred for New Piper, procrastination, and anticipation for writing this chapter. This was the first time I wrote smut, so I hope it gives the characters justice. Also to my guest reviewer who commented on chapter 12: hopefully this chapter satisfies your request for "full detail" :) Feel free to like, follow, review, etc! Enjoy!**

_Piper_

Our mouths crash together over and over, like waves on a beach during a rogue storm. I feel her tongue dancing on the edge of my lips, and I open my mouth to taste her breath mingled in with mine. She tastes like tequila and beer and vodka and I love it. I love it I love it I love it. Alex leans into me with a flurry of kisses and I start arching my back, and when I can no longer bend I back up, our lips never parting until my back hits the cold tile of the bathroom wall.

Goosebumps raise up on the backs of my arms from the contrast of Alex's warm embrace to the stone of the bathroom wall. Or maybe she's the one causing the goosebumps. The thought makes me smile, but Alex intercepts with a long, deep kiss that makes me consider petitioning to change the name from_ frenching_ to_ vausing._

At long last, Alex pulls back, smiles, and says, "Well?"

And we're standing there, wrapped in each other's arms. Her expectantly waiting, and me freaking out. Why did I think I could do this? I've never done anything like this before. Okay. Okay. I need to calm down. _You like Alex, _I tell myself._ You like her more than you've liked anyone else. You can do this. _

This time I'm the one who initiates the kisses. I'm the one who begs her mouth to open on mine, and I'm the one tasting the tequila and beer and vodka all over again. All while turning in a slow circle so now Alex is the one pressed up against the wall.

More confident, I begin making my way south, leaving a trail of kisses on her pale skin so she knows my destination. I hastily unbutton her tight black jeans and roll them off so they're laying in a pile on the floor. Standing up again, I taste the sweet mix of alcohol in her mouth all over again, all while she runs her hands through the long blonde waves of hair that fall just short of my belly button. I've been growing them out. I press my forehead against hers for a moment, before asking, "So…do you think I'll need water for this? Hydration?"

She laughs quietly, considering we're in the bathroom of a bar with her girlfriend_ in_ the bar, but to me, Alex and I are the only people in the world right now. If God had a pause button on his remote that controls the universe, then he just pressed pause on everyone except us. I just hope he'll turn his head at what I'm about to do, or I might have to visit a confessional soon.

I kneel down, strip off her lacy black panties, and let them reunite with her jeans on the floor. Without a word I bend down and start leaving another trail for Alex to follow, this time starting down at her left ankle to her calf, to the the side of her knee, then her thigh. Her leg has a small forest of hairs growing back, but they're softer than the scraggly hairs on a man's five o'clock shadow, so I don't mind. Her hands lay on the top of my head, but they slowly tighten their hold on locks of my hair with ever kiss I leave on her goosebump-riddled leg.

I hoist her left leg over my shoulder and suddenly I'm kissing an entirely different pair of lips, but they still belong to Alex. Oh my God. I'm doing it. They're already wet, but I don't think Alex uses Chapstick to keep them from going dry. I don't see her face, yet I hear her heavy breathing from up above. When I open my mouth and my tongue probes around, I hear it getting louder. I almost can't hear her speaking in time with her breathing, but it's there.

"Please. Go. More. Pipes."

Her hands hold fistfuls of my hair captive, and when I finally slide a finger inside her, she abandons all sense of her surroundings and moans. When I add another one, the moans get louder. I start slow, inching my fingers out and in at a snail's pace, all while kissing the pair of lips that keeps getting wetter and wetter. The leg she has draped around my shoulder begins trembling.

I begin to pick up the pace, pumping my fingers up and down, occasionally resting my arm to replace it with my mouth. More importantly, my tongue. I never thought a, you know, would taste that good. After my first morsel, I can't help but devour Alex. It doesn't taste like tequila, or beer, or vodka, but I still love it.

I bring my fingers up again, but this time I start fast and go farther than before, reaching for her sweet spot. Alex is still moaning, loudly. I reach up with my spare hand and feel underneath her shirt, under the bra I presume to be black. Her breast fills up in my hand and when I give it a rough squeeze, her grip on my hair tightens. I go as far up into her as I dare, and when I do, I feel her muscles clamp around my fingers. Alex melts around me. She lets out her last moans, screaming, "oh, oH, OH, OHHH" and resumes her heavy breathing.

Meanwhile, her hands attempt to untangle themselves from my hair. I lap up the white stuff that covers my now cramped hand. It was so worth it. I lower her leg, stand up, and wrap my arms around her naked waist, save her shirt. I lean forward and give Alex a kiss that would rival her vausing from earlier.

"Good?" I ask, giving her a small peck on the nose. Alex runs a hand through her jet black hair.

"Wow." Is all she manages to breathe out. Me too, Alex. Me too.


	14. Watch Your Back

**Here's chapter 14! Be prepared that it might be a few weeks or more until chapter 15 is written and released, but until then, enjoy!**

_Vee_

I stand over her, sock in hand almost touching the ground from the weight of the lock inside it.

"Rhonda, Rhonda, Rhonda," I chuckle, before dealing another blow. Her eyes bulge out from their sockets, and her scar pops out more than it has before. She already has blue-black bruises decorating her body, with a particular nasty one on her right cheekbone.

Her mouth is bound with a tank top from the laundry room, but I can still catch a glimpse of the peppers peeking out from her opened mouth. How many did I get out from Red's kitchen again? Seven? Eight? Doesn't matter. Habaneros are relatively easy to come by with Red as a friend, and can sure as hell be spicy. Lifting up the slock, I let it come crashing down onto her face. Her eyes shudder and close, which draws my attention to the small dent on her forehead where the slock was moments before. Oh well.

I untie the shirt and scoop the peppers out of Rhonda's mouth. Is she just unconscious… or is she dead? I guess I'll find out. Before I leave, I remember to pry open the lower electrical outlet on the northern wall of the warehouse. Inside is the black girls' stash of cigarettes. I know they have more stashes elsewhere, but this'll do for now. I stick a half-full pack into her pocket, and the cheap plastic lighter in another. Why they even have pockets on the uniforms is beyond me.

Leaving her body on the warehouse floor, I take a box of some heavy shit and lay it sideways next to her. The lazy fucks who call themselves "COs" will just chalk it up to the box, conveniently ignoring the other bruises…and anything else I might have left with Rhonda. They don't want an investigation. But they'll send her to max once they find the cigarettes and lighter.

I take the lock out of the sock, then throw what's left of the peppers inside. I cover my hand with the tank top stained with Rhonda's saliva and switch off the warehouse lights on my way out. She won't be at the curfew count time at 9:00, which will prompt the COs to look for her. And they'll find her in the warehouse. Unconscious…or not. I make my way back to the room where I'm bunking with Red and New York, whose actual name is Anita.

Though…Red doesn't know that I stole those peppers from her kitchen. She thinks she's sneaky, but really, I can predict her every move. Like this morning at breakfast, whilst getting my food, she called out from the kitchen, "I've got a surprise for you today! Come by later, yes?"

As if I didn't know she started using her outside connections to smuggle in shit. I already know. It's hidden in the storage unit next to the stoves. I saunter into the kitchen, where Red is already preparing lunch. She's stirring _something_ in that wide shallow pot of hers, but I can't tell what. Frankly, it looks disgusting, but I know better than to tell her that.

"So." Red starts. "What happened to your dear friend Rhonda?"

Shit. I didn't expect it to get around _that _fast. Well, gossip is wildfire in here, but can you blame us? We're locked up, have no (legal) means of communication other than visits and phone calls, and there's nothing to do. For most people.

Putting on a casual tone, I say, "I don't know what happened. Nobody tells the new girl. One day, she was running things, large and in charge." I tug on my rough khaki-colored shirt. "And the next, POOF! Gone. So long, Rhonda."

Red glances over from her, whatever she has in the pot, and asks, "Something major must have happened for her to get sent down to max, no?" Something major _did _happen. If only you knew, Red. I nod my head in agreement.

"Yeah, well, who knows how stuff works around here?"

Red leans in. "You hear Anita had a heart attack last night?" Anita? Oh right, New York.

"The guido who rooms with us?" I ask. Red nods her head in confirmation.

I scoff. "Probably too much ragú in her arteries."

"Speaking of…" Red says, grinning. She walks away from her pot, over to the storage area, beckoning me to follow with her index finger. Here we go. I follow, but first, I tear off a chunk of bread laying on the counter and stuff it in my mouth. By the time I get there, she's holding up the giant container of uncooked macaroni noodles.

Red beams. "Put your hand in."

"Oh, God," I say, wiping my hands on my shirt. "That's unsanitary."

"Just do it." She responds, with a mysterious grin planted on her face. I already know, Red. This is just a show. I stick my hand in, feeling around for the plastic bag.

"Pull." Red commands. I pull. And look, surprise! What is it? Could it be?! A clear plastic baggie with some shit lotion in it?! It's a Christmas miracle!

Instead of saying any of those things, I feign a surprised look and say, "Holy shit."

"Not too bad for a white girl, hmm?" Red chuckles, and I join her.

"Not too bad at all. You selling already?" Course she is. I saw at least one of these bottles in the bathroom earlier today.

"A little. Here and there. Testing the waters. I don't wanna get in over my head." Bullshit. Bull fucking shit. You're already in over your head, Red. Now, this is the time of the show where I feed her ego.

"Shit, you gonna be running things around here in a few months." I tell her.

Red smiles. "We'll see. Slow and steady." I drop the bag back onto the macaroni. We'll see. Y'know, I really _should_ get into acting. I'd be good at it.

Red lowers her voice, and leans in a little. "But I do thank you for your advice." I'm guessing at that moment someone came into the kitchen, because Red whirls around and puts the container back on the shelf. With the bag sitting on top. Rookie mistake. Once I hear my name, I turn around to see who the visitor is.

"Hey, Vee, I'm sorry to bother you, but the one without the eyebrows, she forgot her money. Figured you'd wanna deal yourself like you told us." Which one is this, the girl talking to me. Oh right, the Rhonda look alike. They have the same cropped black hair and resting bitch face. I knit my eyebrows together, and send Rhonda II a glare. She gets the message and leaves.

"I'll be right there." Plastering a smile on my face, I turn around again to face Red. Is that concern written on her face….or fear?

"I better get going. We can talk more later." I glance over, and nod my head at the macaroni. "I'm impressed, Red." I turn to leave, feeling her eyes watch my back as I walk away.

Looks like I'll be dealing with two girls later. Eyebrows and Rhonda II. Hopefully that will set a precedent to not talk of private matters in front of others.

Later during what's considered "free time", I make my way over to the phone line. There's at least five people waiting, but with one glance at the girls behind me (notably, all of whom have eyebrows and do not resemble Rhonda) and I'm generously brought to the front. Either they already figured it out, or the word has already spread that the black girls have a new leader.

I dial the phone, and turn away from the crowd, closing the conversation to just RJ and I.

"RJ?"

"Vee? It's me!" I immediately recognize the young girl's voice on the other end.

"My Taystee girl! How've you been?"

"Good, good. I got an A on my math test, and I didn't even cheat!" Her happiness is infectious; I can feel myself smiling despite myself.

"That's my girl. Can you do me a favor?"

"Yeah. What is it?"

"Get RJ on the phone. It was nice talking to you, Taystee girl."

"You too, Vee."

There's a pause on the other end. Not ten seconds later, a deeper, masculine voice fills the silence.

"Yes ma?"

"I'm going to request our, ehem, _friend_ to be put on my call list. Be a dear and make sure she gets on it."

"Yes, ma."

"Good boy. See you later." The receiver clicks back in place and I stroll of with my posse lagging behind. First Rhonda, now Alex. Watch your back, Vause.


	15. Fourth Wall

**I'm so sorry for the last half of this chapter, it's such fucking joke and I was laughing so hard that I kept it all. Please forgive me for this; I wanted to write smut (so many smut requests…you guys are so kinky) and it was 2:30 in the morning… I may have to delete this and rewrite an entirely new chapter. But I mean, hey! If you like my 2:30 AM ramblings, leave a review! They're always greatly appreciated!**

_Alex_

Piper and I stumble into her apartment later that night, shitfaced and giggling like the idiots we are. We're drunk off the booze and high on each other; I've never felt like this before. _It's nice._ We both strip each other of the unnecessary clothes, leaving a trail until it ends in the living room. She has a cappuccino colored sofa. Nice. I turn around, and she's gone, but a few seconds later a very naked Piper comes back into the living room with a bottle of wine in one hand and a corkscrew dangling from the other.

We cheer, and suddenly I'm falling not onto her cappuccino colored sofa, but onto the floor with Piper on top of me, straddling my hips with her legs. I can feel her heat rubbing off onto the skin right below my belly button and right above my private square. It hasn't been that private as of late. When Piper sits back up, theres a pool of her wetness there that wasn't there moments before.

I grin. "You wet fuck."

Piper gives me a sheepish smile, and pops the cork off the wine. While she's distracted with the wine, I slip my fingers past her lips and inside of her.

"This wine is goOD," She says, laughing and spilling the wine from my surprise.

"Here," I laugh, opening my mouth. "Gimme some."

Piper raises the wine over her head, and pours it down on my body, all while grinding down onto my fingers. The red misses my mouth, conveniently covering my entire ribcage and soaking into the carpet underneath me.

"Oops," Piper giggles. "Let me clean that up for you."

And there she is, lapping up the wine, _everywhere_. She pauses to kiss each breast multiple times, and I eagerly arch my back in response. She grinds down even more on my two fingers. I reach them up, up, up into Piper until it's almost at her spot and she's screaming for more. Then I pull them almost out and repeat, until Piper's moaning, "Al-ex. Alex. Alex. Ohhh. OHHH. ALLEEXXX."

Once she's finished, I pat the carpeted floor.

"Blondie…" I pant, then draw my pointer finger to her. Piper discards the empty wine bottle, grabs a blanket, and falls on top of me, with the blanket billowing behind her like a superhero cape. _Wonder-Pipes. _I'll admit, it's got a certain ring to it.

Piper looks up from where her head is nestled in my cleavage, then (with much groaning and complaining from my very comfortable, whatever Piper is to me) she pushes herself up so our lips touch once more. She falls back down, this time with her head resting in the crook of my neck. Apparently it wasn't comfortable enough, because just as I'm drifting off in a drunken stupor, I hear the soft swears and groans as she settles herself back down in between my breasts. The feel of her long golden locks softly tickles my skin, but I don't plan on moving.

Sighing, I mutter, "Pipes, if you're gonna complain _this _much about giving me a little kiss -"

"Your boobs are like pillows. It's great, you're great, I love your boobs. They're so soft and big and I love them. I fucking love them. But now I have to go to sleep, because I just fucked you and you just fucked me but we drunk too much of the wine and now I'm sleepy." She says, breathing her wine-flavored breath onto my breast.

We're wrapped beneath one of many giant soft blankets owned by Piper and her roomate, with Pipes in her deep-sleep mode and making those soft little snores that are the perfect combination of dorkiness and adorableness. Her head rises and falls in time with my ribcage while I watch her, and I fall asleep to skin still tingling from the heat of her breath on my bare breast with the tastes of alcohol and Piper lingering in my mouth.

I wake up to the sound of Piper sucking on my neck. Best. Wake up call. Ever. At the rate she's going, Piper's giving me a hickey almost as hungrily as Edward must have when he sucked Bella's blood in _Twilight_.

About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward Piper was a vampire giving me a mind blowing hickey. Second, there was a part of him her - and I didn't know how potent that part might be - that thirsted for my blood hooha. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him her.

Wait, _What?_ Wow, that was cheesy. How did I even think that? At least it doesn't sound like some _50 Shades_ type of shit. RIIIIIING. RIIIING. RIIIING. Confused from what's going on (FOURTH WALL FOURTH WALL FOURTH WALL), I disentangle myself from Piper and crawl over to my buzzing phone, the one that needs to be put on silent. I feel a huge tingling on my neck, so now I know that my Blondie goes big or goes home when it comes to performing on me. It'll be nice and bruised-looking like that for at least a day or two. I glance down at my phone. _11 MISSED CALLS._

"Shit. Shit. SHIT. PIPES, I'M SO SORRY, I HAVE TO GO. LATERS, BABY." I shout, then silently curse myself for shouting, and knowing I must take the blame for the dull throbbing that's taken up my brain space. _Laters, baby? Really?_ Hopefully Piper forgets that.

She begins complaining, "Baby, come back to bed. Let's get s'more wine. Hahahaha. Imagine _that, _Alex. S'mores wine? Hmmm…that probably tastes like shit." So one of us is still drunk. Yeah, she'll forget, "Laters, baby." I choose a trail of clothes at random and follow it to the door, haphazardly throwing on the clothes as I go. By the time I stumble into to the bra I realize it's Piper's clothes, and am already starting to regret not asking Pipes to throw mine into a neat pile.

I'm halfway out the door when -wait, _Twilight? 50 Shades of Grey?_ What the fuck are those things? The fuck? Am I still drunk? The ringing in my ears, it's getting louder, until it drowns out everything around me.

I don't realize it, but the author is writing in things that don't exist yet, because this is the early 2000s. My head is pounding, as if I was Voldemort and Harry just destroyed one of my Horcruxes, but, like, 100 times worse. And when I open the door to face the world outside, the brightness engulfs me and leaves my head ringing and pounding worse than ever, like when the Career's shit exploded and Katniss fucked up her ear in _The Hunger Games_.

Great series, but I'll have to admit, after _Catching Fire_ I had high expectations. I raise my hand up high, to shield the light, but also to symbolize the author's high expectations for the third book in an epic dystopian trilogy. I have to admit, _Mockingjay _just did not meet them. If you're looking for an amazing fantasy or dystopian series, just reread _Harry Potter._ **Do not** read Divergent, that series is shit. Seriously.

Confused, I stumble outside. Did I just black out for a second? Am I still drunk? The angry dwarf pounding the interior of my skull with a hammer screams, _NO, YOU IDIOT, YOU'RE JUST VERY HUNGOVER AND THE AUTHOR IS TAKING ADVANTAGE OF YOUR WEAKENED SENSES TO FUCK WITH YOU, _but I can only make out the part before the author is mentioned. I slam Piper's apartment door shut. Goddamnit, WHY do I keep doing this to myself? As I make my way downtown, I start walking fast (which definitely doesn't help my screaming migraine), faces pass by as my walking fast turns into walking faster. _And I'm homebound,_ I think to myself, as I collapse on a train in the subway, praying that it takes me to the Bronx.


	16. Christmas in the City: Part One

**MINOR DETAIL CHANGE - Polly and Piper live in a townhouse, not an apartment. I realized this while writing the chapter, and I'm not allowed to change the other chapter's content. I'M SO SORRY IT TOOK THIS LONG TO WRITE THIS CHAPTER BUT I WOULD JUST LIKE YOU TO LISTEN TO THE SONG "ADDICTED TO YOU" BY AVICII BECAUSE IT'S THE PERFECT VAUSEMAN SONG ESPECIALLY FOR THIS FIC I JUST LOVE IT SO MUCH. Feel free to like, comment, review, etc! I'm going to be busy with school so I'm not sure when chapter 17 will be published :( Let me know if there are any grammatical errors, I finished this chapter about five minutes ago. ENJOY CHAPTER SIXTEEN MY LOVELIES :)**

_Silvia_

After the burlesque show, I didn't see Alex again until December 11th, exactly two weeks before Christmas. No calls, no texts, nothing. It's our second Christmas together, but somehow Larry's week-old Chinese takeout seems more exciting than that. Lately, I've stayed over at Larry's more often than I have at Alex and I's apartment. Is this how married couples feel? Empty, but obligated to stay with each other just out of habit. Nothing else?

As it happened, I was out Christmas shopping for Larry (since he's a writer, I decided to go along that route for him) when I made a pit stop at the apartment for the bathroom, a snack, and maybe even a nap. I didn't expect to find myself face-to-face with my long gone girlfriend, who disappeared _just_ as I thought things we're getting better again.

I attempt to wipe the surprised look off my face, and greet her. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Where've you been?"

"Oh, you know…around. I've been in Brooklyn for work lately."

"So, um…what are you doing here?"

"This is my apartment." _Of course it's her apartment, you idiot. You live together._ But we don't. Not really, anyway. We stand there for a while, alone with our thoughts and the awkward _what happened to us?_ tension that every doomed couple goes through. There's just a point where they're no longer the most important thing to you anymore, and the feelings you had for them have faded away. Finally, Alex breaks the silence.

"Silvia…I don't think we should, um, see each other any more."

I bob my head in agreement. "Yeah."

"If you don't have a place right now, you're more than welcome to stay here, even though it's technically my apartment." Alex says, her expression unchanged.

My first thoughts go to Larry. I'll just stay with him for the time being, I practically live with him anyways.

"Yeah," I say, trying to figure out how exactly I'll break the news to him. And that's when I notice the faint purplish-blue-black coloring on her neck.

"Alex, what's that?" I ask, pointing to _it_.

"Oh, I well," Alex blushes. "It's nothing." My brain is screaming, _no Silvia, don't do this to yourself._ But I do so anyways. It's starting to make sense now, anyways. Alex not being around as much (though she was hardly ever around in the first place, what with her crazy work schedule), why she wants to break up too, and the bruise — no. The hickey. She's cheating on me again.

This time I ball up my fists and ask my next question through clenched teeth. "Alex. Are you? Are you really doing this to me again?"

I watch a range of emotion flash through her in a millisecond, before she decides to be straight with me (Haha isn't that funny? Because we're lesbians but I said the _s_ word? Straight **straight** _straight_ straigh . Fuck off.)

"Yeah, Silvy, I am. Part of it's because of her. But it's also partly because we lost our spark. This isn't even a relationship anymore. I haven't seen you for _days_, and we're "dating"? That's bullshit, Silvy, and I don't want to bullshit anymore with you because you're a better person than that." Larry. I nod. So long as it's not that blonde slut Penny, I'm fine.

"Okay. Just…just tell me one last thing, and I'll pack up my stuff and go."

"What is it?"

"This girl you're leaving me for. Is it that blonde slut I caught in our bed?" I cross my fingers. Please no. But at the same time, I get the nagging feeling that I know the next word that'll come out of Alex's mouth, a word I _really_ won't like.

Alex's face flushes, and she looks down at the ground. "Yes."

Larry has this weird intuition where he's more sensitive to feelings than most men are. Actually, it's more than most women, too. It might be God's way of apologizing for his gigantic nose. It also means that he could tell something was off about my day the second I slammed the door to his apartment shut. He swoops down on me like the sympathetic vulture he is, armed with tea, blankets, and his ears.

"Tell me everything." He says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. And so I do, except I kind of make these alterations to the story:

Instead of a double D cup, Alex has a dick (but it's smaller than Larry's, I gotta give the guy an ego boost.)

Alex broke up with me before I got drunk and met Larry. Keyword; _before_.

I ran into Alex today — who then told me that the reason he's leaving me for a fucking doe eyed, flat chested, blonde princess bitch. Oh wait. That part's true.

By the time I finish, Larry looks as if he would go and beat up my "ex-boyfriend" Alex. Under his breath he mutters, "Fuck. Him."

Larry soon gets a mischievous glint in his eyes. He retrieves his laptop from somewhere in his apartment, and returns back to his seat, the glow of the computer illuminating his face. Covering my hand with his, he says, "I have an idea."

Larry's plan wasn't exactly to beat up Alex, but it did give me my own form of sweet revenge.

_Piper_

Polly watches me, lit cigarette in hand, smirk plastered on her face, while I fold my legs on the couch cushions so I can feel the heel of my new chestnut Congratulations-On-The-New-Townhouse-Piper! Ugg boots (courtesy of my parents) digging into my ass. Since moving here we've had to take out the smoke detectors in both Polly's room _and_ the living room because of what she likes to call her "little friends" — on the plus side, we've gotten nighttime visits from some very ripped, very attractive firemen whenever Polly would set off the alarm.

I still can't remember what happened after Alex and I came home on _that night._ All I can recall is waking up naked to a panicked Alex stumbling around the townhouse and realizing I was laying on a wine colored painting. Minor issue — the canvas in said painting happened to be the carpet. Except I do remember one thing. Whatever it was we did, it was _amazing_. I didn't know the whole "I'll be walking funny tomorrow" joke existed for girl on girl. I now know from personal experience that it _definitely_ does. I'm not sure _what_ we did in the living room, but just to be safe, I had grabbed some old blankets from the closet and covered the couch. And the floor. Just in case.

We've seen each other a lot more since that night, often times at mine or Alex's apartment. Often times in Alex's bed, since after breaking up with her girlfriend she doesn't have a roommate to walk in on, well, _it_. Alex left so quickly on _that _night, though, I had to dig through the still-unpacked junk boxes to find her phone number scrawled on the crumpled cocktail napkin from the very first night we met. It took five and a half hours to find.

One of Polly's numerous mixtapes hums quietly from while I tell her, "I'm not gay." I shake my head. "I'm not. I'm just experimenting." She shoots me a suspicious glance, tilts her head as if to ask, _Are you sure? _To which I'd respond, _No. The scary thing is, I'm not sure at all. _Instead, Polly remains silent.

That thought, paired with the now slightly painful sensation of the CONTAT! Uggs on my ass sends me to readjusting into a more comfortable position. I stretch out my legs and prop my arm up onto the back couch cushion, then lean into said couch cushion and rest my face in my hand. That, topped with the CONTAT! Uggs, my cozy not-too-hot-not-too-cold brown sweater and, forest green sweatpants makes it so comfy it should be illegal. I continue on, saying, "I don't know. Maybe all the guys that I've been with so far have just been _really_ bad in bed, but I'm telling you, it's like I _just_ discovered what sex is supposed to be." I close my eyes, straining to remember what went on that night.

"But she has a girlfriend?" Polly asks, smile somewhat faded.

"Mmm… she _had_ a girlfriend. They were having problems. It's over." I smile to myself, hoping it's purely internal so Polly won't pick up. At the same time, a small part of me wants her to see. Okay, _now_ she has a skeptical look on her face. But the next question she asks isn't concerning me, so I assume my smile is a secret I must keep between me, myself and I.

"For sure?"

"Yeah." At least, I think so. Why would Alex lie to me? She wouldn't. Alex is Alex.

"I don't know." Polly says, shaking her head. I don't really hear her, though. Because I'm thinking about Alex. This time I know a smile crosses my face, so I smile into the couch cushion instead.

The doorbell dings, and I whip my still-smiling head up. We weren't expecting anyone, right? I get up off the couch and head over to the the front door, while asking, "Who is that?" Polly shrugs, takes a drag, and peers out the window.

Once I reach the front door, I peer out the paneled glass window to see who our visitor is. No one. Weird. Still, I open the door.

Waiting directly on the wooden porch is a brown paper bag. Oh yeah, it's on fire. Gasping, I step on it with the CONTAT! Uggs, in order to snuff the flame. But when I do, the fire goes out and I see the contents of the bag. It's shit. Literal shit. It smears itself on the porch as I watch my right foot boot die in front of me. She was so young. War is hell.

I start screaming, "Oh, my God. Oh, my God! There's _shit _in that bag!" Polly rushes over and takes a look.

"You fell for that? That's like the oldest trick in the book." She says in an exasperated tone.

"What is the oldest trick in the book? Poop? In a bag? On _fire_?" I ask.

She folds her arms. "Yes, my brother and his friends used to do it. It's so fucking stupid. It's a prank."

I sigh, then realized my left CONTAT! boot is on the poop. "Oh!" I gasp, then attempt to wipe it off on the wooden paneling. Our porch now looks like some modern artist's take on the futility of life. The shit can resemble life. Polly makes a disgusted noise. It's not until that moment do I realize there can only be one person who would do this to me.

"Oh, my God." I say. "It's her."

"Who?" Polly asks, looking around the darkened neighborhood. As if she'd show herself now.

"Silvia. Alex's ex." I peer out into the lawn. Is she here?

"Really?"

"Yes, she's fucking crazy. she attacked me." I point to the artwork. "This is — This is her, I know it."

We both pause to look at it, until Polly asks, "Do you think it's human shit?" Oh my God. I hadn't even thought that until now.

"No, I mean, this is… This is dog shit, right?"

"I mean, if she's really as crazy as you say…" Polly trails off. Wait. No, Silvia couldn't have. Could she?

Pointing again at Silvia's masterpiece, I ask her what's on my mind. "You don't think that she squatted and pooped in the bag, do you?" Polly glances down to the floor, then up to me. _I honestly don't know,_ she says, via our best friend telepathic connection. "Well, she did get her point across. I'll give her that much." I tell her.

"Lesbians are insane." Polly shakes her head and walks back inside.

I chew my lip. My thoughts cross back to Alex. _More like, Lesbians are insanely good in bed._ I smile, and this time let the whole world see the fact that I don't give a shit that I'm with a girl named Alex. Evidently, Silvia does.


	17. Author Announcement

Hello All!

I know you've been expecting a chapter for some time now, and I'm sorry to say I haven't so much as written a single word of Chapter 17. I'm very, very, very, very, busy x100 right now and need to get my life in order, so I have no clue when I'll have the time or energy to write. Please be (even more) patient, because I'm officially declaring Before Litchfield on hiatus. I'll let you all know if and when I decide to continue. Bye for now :)


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